Quiet Days

There are so many wonderful things to tell you.

But, you see, as I type this there is a heaviness in my heart. My Gram is dying. She is in her room at a nursing home on medicines that are keeping her pain-free, but her kidneys are failing and every time my phone rings I get a lump in my throat thinking it’ll be that call from my mother, telling me she’s finally at rest.


These are hard sentences to type. “Dying.” I keep looking at that word, the shape of the letters on this screen. That dying this time means a slow and constant state of being rather than a thing one quickly does and has finished. I know the last time I saw her was the last time I’ll see her. I think about the way it parallels someone scheduling a c-section, in a way. This is when a life will come into the world. This is when a life will leave. These great unknowns become known and we sit. And we wait.

I miss her already. All I can do is love her and love her.

16 thoughts on “Quiet Days

  1. You will FOREVER be connected through the heart, so when you find yourself missing her, just put your hand up to your heart and she will be right there…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s